


kick at the darkness til it bleeds daylight

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Series: fire & ice [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Comfort Food, Families of Choice, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: Joe's fury is a volcanic thing, one that blazes fiercely and lives much longer than it would appear on the surface. Nicky has known that for almost as long as he's known Joe, and tonight, he's grateful for it. His own anger is deep and cold and implacable, tunneled through him so thoroughly he sometimes cannot move for all of its effects, so he draws on Joe's heat to keep him going, because now is not the time to shut down.There is too much to be seen to.
Relationships: Andromache of Scythia & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova & Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: fire & ice [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985134
Comments: 66
Kudos: 354





	kick at the darkness til it bleeds daylight

Joe's fury is a volcanic thing, one that blazes fiercely and lives much longer than it would appear on the surface. Nicky has known that for almost as long as he's known Joe, and tonight, he's grateful for it. His own anger is deep and cold and implacable, tunneled through him so thoroughly he sometimes cannot move for all of its effects, so he draws on Joe's heat to keep him going, because now is not the time to shut down. There is too much to be seen to.

Nile is shaky and disoriented, which is hardly surprising given the fall she'd flung herself into. That much damage takes great amounts of energy to heal, and it's not something she's used to yet. Andy is pale, almost ashen, and is moving constantly--trying, Nicky realizes, to find a comfortable way to sit now that the adrenaline has faded and she can feel every scrape and bruise, even beyond the gunshot wound. 

Booker is… somewhere. Nicky should care, but he can't quite bring himself to, not just yet. And even if their host, Mr. Copley, is coping somewhat well with having five bloodstained, filthy, and exhausted Immortals arriving on his doorstep, Nicky is not in any sort of frame of mind to allow allow anyone but himself to care for his family, not right now, and certainly not someone who holds such an uncertain position in Nicky's trust. 

Nicky understands why they're here--no one had wanted to risk the drive to their closest safe house with Andy having multiple wounds that aren't healing; and no place safe is going to let a group looking as they do in--but he's still uneasy about putting their lives in Copley's hands.

Nile had lifted her head off the headrest of the car to slur, "He got me to you, got me inside, gave me the access card, directions." She'd closed her eyes at that point, as though the movement outside the car's windows had sent her reeling. "I wouldn't let him come up with me." 

It is something, Nicky acknowledges, but not actually enough to ease his misgivings. No one had a better idea though, so here they are, in an expensive London suburb, their bloody clothing incongruous next to the stylish furnishings.

"Tea," Nicky tells Copley, more to keep the man from hovering than anything. "With sugar and milk." Nile makes a face when she realizes it's for her, but settles when Nicky assures her it's only a start. "Joe," he calls, reaching out and finding Joe's arm--warm and solid and familiar--without even having to look. He never forgets how fortunate he is to have found his way to Joe all those years ago, but today, now, he is ever more aware of how the universe has granted him favor. "We need food, all of us, and my bag still should be in the car."

Andy makes a face at that, because, yes, Nicky's medical bag is for her. So is the tea, actually--it will help settle Nile's jitters, but the sugar and fluids will benefit Andy a thousand times more--but Nicky will fight that battle when he gets to it. Joe grunts an affirmative, and leaves with a touch to Nicky's face. 

Before too many seconds have passed, Nicky can hear him snapping and snarling with Booker, but then the front door slams and Booker is standing in front of him, one of the backpacks Nicky keeps in every car and safehouse in his hands; and Nicky realizes that Joe has gone to take care of the food himself, for many of the same reasons that Nicky is still standing here, grimy and bloodstained, preparing to start an argument with the most stubborn person he has ever known.

"No," Andy says before Nicky can even take a breath. Booker huffs out a laugh that is not actually out of place--he does know both of them very well--but Nicky is exhausted and as near to overwhelmed as he can ever remember being. His wounds have healed, yes, but he can still feel the echo of the pain Merrick's pet doctor inflicted, as much in his soul as his actual body; and he can't help the cold glare that he turns on Booker.

If he is being completely honest with himself, he can admit that he wouldn't have reined it in even if he'd could have, but it is truly not within his control at the moment.

Booker raises both hands and backs away; Nicky breathes deeply before he turns back to Andy.

"It's fine," Andy says preemptively. " _I'm_ fine."

Nicky does not even dignify that with a reply, merely allows his eyes to move from the dark, purplish circles under her eyes to her cracked and bleeding lips to the cuts and scrapes from the many pieces of shattered glass that mark her arms and hands. 

"They're _scratches_ ," Andy says, as though she thinks he does not know how easily an infection could take hold. Copley chooses that point to return with a tray full of mugs; Nicky can smell the fragrant tea blend that had been chosen as he pointedly takes one of the mugs and sips at it carefully. Copley had taken Nicky's suggestion very literally; Nicky can barely taste the tea itself for all the sugar and milk Copley had added. He nods at Nile, who sighs, but reaches obediently for a mug of her own. 

Andy, of course, only locks eyes with Nicky, stubbornly refusing to take one for herself until Booker says, "For Christ's sake, Andy," and shoves a mug into her hand while he takes one for himself. Nicky flicks a glance at Booker, who shrugs and rolls his eyes in return. 

Nicky's fury does not ease, but he does acknowledge, at least to himself, that Booker is still a part of their family and that he cares in his own way for Andy. 

Andy drinks the tea, making a point to grumble about the sweetness. Copley doesn't seem to take offense, going so far as to point out, in a deceptively mild voice, that the last thing they need is for Andy to go into shock from blood loss and over-exertion. Nicky almost smiles at the offended expression on Andy's face; he is certain Nile is covering a laugh of her own with a choking cough behind her hastily raised mug. 

Andy levels a long, deliberate look at all of them, but continues to drink from her mug, so Nicky does not provoke her further, at least not until she finishes. Then, he picks up the backpack and looks toward the bathroom he can see at the far end of the open-plan great room they've been occupying. 

Andy is drawing breath to argue further, but Nicky only stands and says, "Andromache," letting every bit of his exhaustion and concern and irritation with her lack of self care show in his voice. She holds his eyes for a long beat, but then closes her mouth, pressing her lips together with _her_ exhaustion and concern and irritation, and follows him to the small room, leaning against the wall while he scrubs his hands and forearms carefully and methodically.

At the very least, none of the cuts and abrasions Nicky finds seem to have any glass shards embedded in them, but it is a long and painful process to clean them all even before Andy shows him the deep, ugly knife wound on her shoulder. This one at least had been cleaned and bandaged, but the fight through Merrick's facility has done it no favors, reopening the gash and tearing away any healing that had begun. 

Nicky finally finishes and ends by holding up a hypodermic and a sterile bottle of antibiotics. "It's what she started you on, back at the-- at Merrick's," he says, somehow managing to keep from saying the word _lab_. They both know what he almost said, but he thinks it's better that he stopped himself. "I watched her the whole time."

"Better you than me," Andy mutters, but then sighs and nods and lets him take her arm and look to find a vein. It's only after he pulls on a fresh pair of gloves and picks up the hypodermic again that he freezes at the sudden, overwhelming memory of gloved hands and needles and the feel of his lung being punctured. 

"Breathe, _bello_ ," Andy murmurs, patience and compassion and love in her voice. Nicky all but falls into it, clinging to the strength she still possesses, holding on hard not to lose his way permanently. "Breathe," she repeats, and Nicky does what she asks.

When he's finally steady enough to risk a look at her face, her smile is melancholy around the edges, but more hopeful than not. "We're here, all of us. The son of a bitch didn't win." 

Nicky nods and she breathes with him until he can trust his hands to pierce the vein in the crook of her elbow and start the slow, careful push of the medicine into her body. 

The slower he goes, the better; he focuses all his attention on the fluid level in the hypodermic, pressing the plunger carefully so that it moves drop by drop. Andy stays still, far less restless than Nicky had even hoped, but after a few long minutes of silence, she says, "Don't take this personally, but you're a mess, Nico."

Nicky glances up at her, smiling at her arched eyebrow. He is itchy and uncomfortable, dried blood and other matter irritating enough against his skin that he can imagine how it all must look. It is, after all, why they are here at this place that may or not be a safe house. "As you said, we are all here, but… There's always something." 

"Truer words, Nico," Andy murmurs. "Truer words." 

Nicky's hands stay steady for the rest of the time it takes to administer the antibiotics; and when they rejoin the others, Joe has returned with bags and bags of food, and Nicky can go to him immediately. Joe smiles at him, and gathers him close, one arm around Nicky's waist even as he directs the unpacking of the food. "Kebabs, curry," he says, pointing to each in turn, before turning to Copley and adding, "got you some fish and chips, chapati to go with the curry, samosas, two kinds of gozleme--"

Nicky loses track of what else Joe has brought for them as he buries his face where Joe's neck curves into his shoulder and breathes him in. As Andy had said, they are here, all of them, and he does not care what he eats.

* - * - *

Joe catches Nicky standing at the top of the stairs looking like he doesn't know what to do. He's showered and in clean clothes, which eases more than a little of the tension Joe's been carrying, but he's lost the purposeful attitude that's been driving him since they arrived on Copley's doorstep. It worries Joe in a way he can't quite describe.

It takes a lot to get Nicky angry, but when it happens, it's a long and involved process to work through it all. Joe can hold a grudge, he'll be the first to admit that, but his anger burns hot and fast. There, and then done with, and he feels better for all the shouting, like all the toxins he's carrying are thrown out of him with every breath. Nicky, though… Joe sometimes worries that Nicky's anger harms himself more than anything, and, well, Joe is not a fan of anything that harms Nicky. 

"Habbibi," Joe says, and the fact that Nicky turns in surprise, seeing him only when he speaks, stirs that feeling of unease a bit more. He knows Nicky's off-balance at being here, in Copley's house, but he would expect that to put Nicky even higher on alert. "You should call it a night. The kid is out cold, and the boss even agreed to lay her stubborn self down. They're fine."

"I--" Nicky stops and sighs. "I meant to check on Booker, but I haven't been able to make myself go to him."

"Not really seeing the problem there," Joe mutters, but that's not true. Him saying something like that wouldn't be a surprise, but it's not Nicky. Even in the middle of Merrick's little torture chamber, Nicky had been the one who'd pressed for calm, for peace. Hearing him admit it, though, at least eases Joe's fears about his distraction. Having to fight his way through that much ugly emotion is more than enough to knock his Nico off-kilter.

"I am--" Nicky swallows and breathes out harshly. "I turn to go to his room and all I can see, all I can hear, is that needle they put in your spine and I--" 

Joe lays his hand against Nicky's face, as much to remind him that they're here, that he's here, with Nicky, as it is to reassure himself of the same. Nicky leans into him and Joe breathes in deep. 

"I cannot remember the last time I have felt..." Nicky's voice trails off, but Joe can read the betrayal and hurt in his eyes, and can feel his own fury ready to boil over. He usually just lets it happen, but he can see so very clearly tonight how that's not going to help, how it's going to be one more thing Nicky will take on himself to fix, and so he reins it all in.

"Not going to argue with you on that," Joe manages to say, and if it's not truly a light tone, it's at least not one that's going to make things worse. "Not that that should come as any kind of a surprise to you."

"It doesn't," Nicky says, with a ghost of a smile, one of the ones that are all about his eyes. Joe loves all of his smiles, but these ones he maybe loves the best, because anyone can read a smile that curves a mouth, but only those who know Nicky well are allowed to see the ones in his eyes. "Your feelings, as ever, are not hiding, my love."

Joe nods, because that's always been true, right from the beginning when he couldn't tear his eyes off the invader who wouldn't die, no matter how Joe came at him. "Go," he says, leaning in to press a kiss to Nicky's mouth before he can start to find words to object. "I'll check on Booker--" He kisses Nicky again. "I promise not to start a fight."

"Joe," Nicky says. "You are angry--"

"Don't tell me you're not," Joe answers. 

"No, you're right," Nicky answers. "I am. Very angry. But I will be--"

"I know you'll be fine, but go," Joe repeats. "Yeah, I'd like to beat the shit out of him, but I want you to feel better even more. Stop trying to make yourself do what you seriously don't want to do, and let me take care of it, okay?" Nicky hesitates, and Joe adds, "As a special favor to me?" which is more-or-less dirty pool, but gets the job done.

" _Grazie, caro_ ," Nicky says, and this time he's the one that's starting the kissing. Joe is not going to object to that, but finally, he gets Nicky off toward the room they're sleeping in and turns to go hunt down Booker, finding him in what looks like an unused office. For a wonder, he doesn't see a bottle anywhere. 

Joe shoulders the door open; Booker looks up at him from the couch where he's evidently trying to sleep. It's not quite long enough to fit his frame, but Joe knows he can sleep on concrete if he needs to. He lets the shitty journey out of South Sudan, the freight trains and the truck beds, play through his mind, all courtesy of Booker and his betrayal, but he keeps his promise and doesn't start anything, no matter how much he wants to. 

"What?" Booker grumbles. 

"Checking in for the night," Joe answers.

"Didn't expect to see you here, at least, not without your saif." 

Joe thinks longingly of his current favorite sword, lost in the attack on the safe house in France, but decides that just standing where he is, lounging in the doorway with a not-quite smile on his face is actually unnerving Booker enough to sate at least a bit of his own anger. 

It's always nice when doing nothing feels good. 

"Didn't think I'd need it." Joe keeps his gaze steady; Booker looks everywhere but at him. "You telling me something different?"

"Nicky really has you at heel, doesn't he?"

As insults go, it's fairly pathetic; Joe barely even arches an eyebrow. Booker lets his head fall back and sighs. 

"I'm fine. I ate. Everything healed. I have this palace of a room. If you'll leave, I'll sleep. There. Check-in complete; go tell your love you were a good boy. Maybe he'll have a treat for you."

"Fuck you, Sebastien," Joe says pleasantly, for all that his eyes are promising every exquisite torture he can do with the sword that's not his favorite, but that he knows--as does Booker--is down in the boot of the car. He doesn't even slam the door behind him. No one is actually going to believe that, but it's a righteous sort of satisfaction for all that it's only a personal one. 

He doesn't want to go back to Nicky with those thoughts in the front of his mind, so he detours through the tastefully decorated hallways. The house is quiet now, Andy and Nile asleep in one room, while Copley occupies another. Joe doesn't think Copley is actually asleep, but he doesn't need to add anything more to the rage that continues to burn deeply inside him by starting any sort of a conversation with the man. He does one loop, then another, and settles all thoughts of blood and flayed skin enough to go back to the room he and Nicky have claimed. 

He moves quietly, but Nicky's sitting on the edge of the bed, still awake, and Joe clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth impatiently. Nicky looks up at the familiar sound--it's Joe's shorthand for _I love you, but you are a stubborn son-of-a-bitch_ , and yes, he uses it a lot, because he does and Nicky is--and smiles. 

"I'm in progress," Nicky says, gesturing to where he has at least gotten stripped down to a t-shirt and boxers. "But I…" he sighs.

"But you got stuck in your head," Joe finishes for him, as he toes his boots off and tugs his shirt up over his head. If Joe's anger is external, Nicky holds all of his inside, deep and implacable. Joe is grateful that it's never been directed at him, not even at first, when they killed each other for reasons that were not personal, not really. He strips off his jeans, but leaves his underwear. He wouldn't object to sex right now--it will burn off at least the surface layer of everything seething through him--but Nicky needs to sleep and Joe would rather take care of Nicky than himself. 

This is also not any sort of a surprise.

"Yes," Nicky says. Joe crawls up on the bed, leaving Nicky plenty of space to decide how much contact he wants. "I'm glad you're here, though."

"Always." Joe stretches out on his side and smiles as Nicky looks over his shoulder to follow his progress. "Everyone--including the ones I don't want to waste my breath on--are settled for the night." Nicky arches one eyebrow; Joe rolls his eyes. "I quote: he ate, everything has healed, he has a palace of a room."

Nicky mutters several extremely filthy comments involving the Christian savior and various anatomical impossibilities; Joe judges he is still deep in the initial stages of his anger, but it is good to know he is not keeping it all in.

"Come on," Joe says. "I've got first watch." 

"You need to sleep, too," Nicky says, his eyes moving slowly over Joe, stopping at each of the places Merrick's pet doctor had cut into him for all that everything has healed. Joe would offer reassurances, but he knows--because he's doing the same to Nicky--that there's not much that can be said to erase memories that ugly. Time, though… Time helps.

"You know that's not gonna happen," Joe says. "Not tonight, at least."

Nicky smiles at him, sad and loving, and leans over so that Joe can kiss him, once, carefully, and then settles himself on his back, reaching out to lay one hand on Joe's biceps. The silence of the house gradually gives way to the sounds of the night. Joe keeps as still as he can, breathing deliberately, in and hold and out and hold, feeling it as Nicky breathes with him and slowly relaxes. Watching Nickly sleep helps, even if Joe isn't going to get anywhere near it himself, at least not tonight. That's not a surprise--his anger has a deep hold on him and is not going to let go no matter how exhausted he is. 

It's all right, though; he can keep watch over Nicky and make a round or two of the house, to make sure everyone else remains settled.

* - * - *

Each time Nicky wakes during the night, Joe is, as he promised, keeping watch. The first time, Nicky curves his body closer to Joe's and falls back asleep with Joe's hand in his hair. The second time, enough time has passed, and Joe comes with him while he checks Andy's dressings and administers the next dose of the antibiotic.

"This," Andy mutters as Nicky finds another vein and starts the slow drip of medicine into her, "is a total fucking drag." She says it quietly, though, to not wake Nile sleeping in the second bed, and is exhausted enough to allow Nicky to give her something for the pain, as well. He would worry more about that, except that she bids them good night with an obscene gesture, one that Joe answers in kind and leaves the both of them smiling as they close the door behind them.

They unfortunately are not able to carry those smiles back to their bed, as the door across the hallway opens and Copley emerges. Nicky tenses and can feel Joe reacting in the same manner, even as he lays a hand on Nicky's back, warm and solid and protective. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Copley says in a low, quiet voice. Nicky knows Joe is balanced on an exceedingly fine edge in not telling Copley that startling them is the very least of his transgressions--and he is, in all honesty, not much inclined to disagree--but that will not stay quiet for long, and he does not want to wake Andy. Her body needs rest to heal even more now. So, he leans back into Joe's hand and levels as calm of a look as he can at Copley. If that is more cold than he would ordinarily consider, well, it's late and he is not much inclined to coddle Copley even if he has offered them sanctuary. 

Both tactics are successful. Joe relaxes infinitesimally, while Copley accepts Nicky's expression without any visible irritation and continues, "I heard the door--is everything--is Andy--?"

"Resting comfortably," Nicky answers, thawing a bit. 

"Is there anything I can do?" Copley asks, and then seems to also reach the same conclusion Nicky has, which is not to have put the entire horrific plan in motion in the first place, and hurries to add, "Anything you need?"

"Andromache and Nile are sleeping," Nicky says. "Joe and I are on the way to do just that. Nothing more is needed."

Again, it's probably a more sharp than the situation needs, but it's all that Nicky is capable of at the moment. Copley only nods, though, and Joe relaxes a tiny bit more. At the very least, no emotional explosions will interrupt anyone's sleep. Running into Copley has refreshed the anger Nicky is carrying, though, enough that he has to stop himself from shrugging off Joe's hands as he nudges Nicky back toward the room they're sleeping in. Joe is right: walking away is what's best. Nicky knows this and knows that Joe is looking out for him, but the anger wants more--and wants to vent itself on Joe. 

This one reason--not the only one, to be sure, but a very large one--why Nicky needs to remain in control; any emotion that can pit him against Joe is not one to which he should be in thrall. 

He lets Joe guide him into the bedroom again, and this time he tugs Joe close, burrows into his warmth. Joe moves easily and wraps himself around Nicky, but doesn't press for more. Once, hundreds of years ago, Nicky had, in a similar state of mind, thought to use his own body to alleviate Joe's rage. It had worked, but only until Joe realized what Nicky had done. Then, it had taken years to truly repair the damage. Now, Joe trusts that Nicky will ask for what he, Nicky, needs, and Nicky does not abuse that trust. He has, once or twice, told Joe that he can't bear to not take care of Joe, and Joe has allowed him to do so. And, equally infrequently, Nicky has truly wanted to lose himself in Joe in times like this, which Joe also accepts. He is humbled that Joe has such faith in him, even after his egregious mistake, but when he has tried to tell Joe that, he gets nothing but a laugh and an argument that it is Joe who is confounded by Nicky. 

This usually devolves into an extended period of love-making, which Nicky cannot be sorry for, but still, the discussion remains unresolved. By now, Nicky is resigned to it remaining that way forever. There are worse things to have to deal with in a relationship, Nicky supposes.

* - * - *

Joe surprises himself and dozes some through the night. It's all due to Nicky, of course. He sleeps so easily in Joe's arms that even the white-hot fury that still burns through Joe is no match for the rhythmic lull of his breathing.

Having to wake every few hours so that Nicky can check on Andy helps, too. It gives Joe an excuse to walk the perimeter and make sure everything's quiet, plus check on Andy without pissing her off.

Well.

She's still pissed off, but that's because of the whole not-healing thing, not because Joe has mortally offended her by needing to make sure she's okay. It's a subtle distinction, but Joe is all about not having the woman irritated with him specifically.

Copley is awake every time they start back to their room. Joe doesn't know whether he's a light sleeper or if he isn't actually sleeping at all. Being honest, he doesn't really care either. Normally, Nicky would be smoothing over Joe's glares, but Joe gets the distinct impression that Nicky's even angrier than Joe is. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, he's all in on it. 

It's right at dawn the next time they check on Andy. Nicky mutters apologies as he looks for another good vein, but does not flinch at the glare Andy levels at him. This is how Joe knows his beloved is the strongest of men, even before Nicky suggests that it might be better if he hangs an IV bag for saline.

"Then I would not have to poke you every few hours," Nicky explains.

"Because I'd just have a needle in me all the time," Andy fires back. Nicky shrugs, and then looks pointedly to where the hypodermic is poised on the surface of Andy's skin.

"True," he says, pressing the needle home. "But it would also be better to make sure you have enough fluids. And if we should need to transfuse blood, it would be less of a complication."

Andy is basically grinding her teeth at the thought, but she nods once, curt and short, and Joe relaxes a little as Nicky smiles that beautiful smile at her.

"It is hard, I know," he says. "But we are here with you."

Andy makes a rude noise--because, Joe assumes, her reputation can't be tainted with any sort of sentimentality--but she doesn't say a word or even go so far as to close her eyes to throw up any sort of a barrier between Nicky's smile and her glower. 

Nile wakes up at the noise, dragging her head out from under the pillow and looking at the crowded room with bleary eyes.

"Is it going to be like this always?" she grumbles. "Barely dawn and people in their underwear hanging out in my room? I coulda stayed in the Corps for this shit."

Joe laughs. "C'mon, kid, let's go find you some food. Healing up from that dive you took yesterday? You gotta be starving."

"Oh, fuck, I so am," Nile mutters, clawing her way out from under the quilts and comforters she had piled on top of her. "Do you guys do coffee, too?"

"Do we do coffee?" Joe mock-gasps, grinning at Nile. "What kind of a question is that?"

"You know how I take it, Al-Kaysani," Andy says, her eyes daring Nicky to contradict her, but he only nods and then catches Joe's eye and looks meaningfully at where he's injecting Andy with the antibiotic. Joe gets the message--he's once again on procurement duty--and turns to shepherd Nile out of the room and down to the kitchen. 

They'd shoved all the food they hadn't finished before into the refrigerator; Nile is hungry enough that she doesn't even bother heating anything up. Joe _tsks_ at the waste of good samosas, but he can always get more once the day gets going. It's not like he's going to sleep or anything.

Copley arrives right as Joe is deciding that the fancy espresso maker is probably going to be worth the hassle of figuring out how to use it.

"I can--" Copley says, gesturing to the shiny chrome and brass machine. 

"It's a nice coffee maker," Joe can't help saying. It's not exactly his style, but he's tired enough that he's not in the shouting mood that is. Copley flinches, but recovers quickly and takes over the coffee production. Nile has eased off on the seriously frantic eating and is watching the whole exchange with a thoughtful look on her face. Joe can see where he's going to be explaining this one, and probably in front of Nicky, but it's not like it's going to be a surprise to anyone that he really hasn't let go of a lot--or any--of the underlying shit. 

For something to keep himself distracted, he grabs the remains of the curry. He _does_ actually heat it, but it's more to prove to himself that he's gotten a little distance from the nasty gut instinct that sooner or later (and it'd probably be sooner), Merrick's pet doctor would have wanted to see what happened if she stopped feeding them and isn't just reacting blindly. 

Yeah, this cluster is going to live with him for awhile.

Copley has a whole routine going with the espresso--the special coffee beans and the special grinder and Joe doesn't even know what else. Nile is asking questions in between bites and Copley is answering with an easy good humor that Joe thinks is genuine. Nile seems to bring that out in people. 

Joe eats with a careful attention to the food and lets the inconsequential chat wash over him. It's not exactly soothing, but it's also not spinning him up tighter; and when he looks up to see Nile watching him with that same considering expression, it's pretty clear she's doing this intentionally. She smiles at him, unfazed that he knows what she's doing, and Joe has to grin back. She's pretty damn great.

Copley is at the point where the cups are coming out and he's about ready to start pouring. "I'm going to cut this with hot water," he's saying to Nile. "Make it more like an Americano, because I don't actually think any of us need to be doubling up on espressos."

"C'mon, what could go wrong with this group and concentrated caffeine?" Nile says, dry and deadpan. 

"Says the woman who shot herself as a shortcut to explanations," Copley answers, equally deadpan. 

"It got the point across, didn't it?" Nile rolls her eyes. "Except for the part where somebody owes me a new boot."

Joe really does like her a lot.

They keep up the back-and-forth while they load up a tray, but then Nile catches on quick that Joe wants to talk to Copley and grabs it off the counter without any hesitation. Joe nods his thanks and then turns back to Copley, who's lost a good bit of his easy, relaxed attitude.

Joe isn't going to be upset about that.

"Look," Joe says, "you keep asking what we need, so I'm gonna take you at your word, and tell you that Nicky wants an IV set-up for Andy. Only saline right now, something he can use to push the meds without having to do it directly for the next couple of days."

"I can get that," Copley says slowly, "but if she needs that much, would she be better off being seen by a doctor?"

Joe shrugs. "Nicky knows what he's doing." Nicky, in fact, has at least five or six medical degrees--he gets bored and goes through med school every couple of decades, basically to keep his hand in--but Joe isn't sharing any details with Copley. "We just need it quietly. No trail."

"Of course," Copley says. "I'll, uh, put a grocery order in, too."

Joe nods again. It's not quite the thanks he'd given Nile, but he definitely isn't in a place where he can say the actual words, so it'll have to do.

* - * - *

Nicky refuses to allow Joe to do the check-in with Booker when they finally decide that there's no more use pretending that they'll sleep more and get the actual day started.

"I can do it," Nicky insists. "It's _my_ issue, not yours." He leans in and kisses Joe carefully. "Thank you for taking care of it last night, but I'm… less tired now."

Joe keeps him close and kisses him again, not at all carefully. They're both breathless when the kiss finally ends and Joe says, "Can I come and glare at him over your shoulder?"

"No," Nicky answers, softening the denial with another--also not careful--kiss. "You will glower and he will posture back and that will grant entirely too much importance to what is only a sop to my conscience." One more kiss, for good measure. "I should be able to let this go, but I am not there yet, so let's keep it as simple as we can."

Joe grumbles a bit more, but Nicky holds firm and wins the day. Of course, this means he's standing in front of the door to the room Booker is using, steeling his nerve to knock and get the whole thing underway without any support, but it's better that way.

He half-expects Booker to leave him standing in the hall, but the door opens almost as soon as he knocks. Booker, it's clear, had not been expecting Nicky, which fills Nicky with a certain sense of an almost savage satisfaction. He flicks his eyes up and down the Frenchman's frame, seeing nothing physical to concern him. He is sure there are mental and emotional issues, but that is beyond his ability to work with, especially on this day, so he turns to go. 

"How's Andy?" Booker asks. It's the least he can do, but Nicky is not surprised that he had not been sure it might happen. He's happy to have been proven wrong, but it's only a small easing of the anger he's still carrying.

"Resting," Nicky answers without turning back to face him. "No fever so far. No shock. The wound is healing."

"Can I--?"

"That is not my decision to make," Nicky says. His body still refuses to face Booker directly. "She is more than capable of sending you to the devil if she so chooses."

Booker chokes out a laugh. "That, she is," he says. "Thanks. For taking care of her."

Nicky does turn his head at that, but not for any sort of a good reason, not for forgiveness or assurances, but so that Booker can see the fury that still seethes within him. "You're welcome," Nicky says, his voice soft for all that he can feel the coldness rising in him. He should stop, _now_ , nothing that is coming out of his mouth is going to help, but it's as if he's standing off to one side and watching. "But please be assured that I in no way took care of her for you."

Booker freezes at that. It is quite possibly the most vicious thing Nicky has ever said to him. He will regret it later, he knows, but for right now, he can't bring himself to care.

"She's sleeping in the room directly below this one," Nicky says. "Please do not wake her. Or Nile."

He leaves Booker at that, going straight back to the room he's sharing with Joe, who's waiting for him. Nicky walks into his arms. Joe doesn't say anything, but only lets Nicky breathe through it all. 

"I should have let you come glower over my shoulder," Nicky finally says. Joe makes a comforting sort of sound, wordless but still understanding for all that it's also saying _I told you so_. Nicky nods.

"Never underestimate the power of a good glare," Joe murmurs, half-teasing, but half not.

"I said--"

"Eh," Joe says. "Don't care." He puts one hand on either side of Nicky's face, looking at him seriously. "I don't, except that you _do_ , and I don't like it when someone hurts you, even if it's you."

Nicky sighs and nods. 

After a little while, Joe lets Nicky go, saying, "Copley's got your medical stuff. C'mon, let's not waste any of this shit mood--no sense waiting until you work your way clear just to let Andy piss all over it when you go to get the IV started."

Nicky sighs again, but Joe does have a point, so he follows down the hall.

* - * - *

It takes all of Nicky's considerable patience to get Andy hooked up to the IV--not the actual, physical procedure, but everything it takes to convince her that they're not over-reacting.

"It's like watching a cat make a human jump through hoops to convince it to do the thing you know the damn cat has already decided to do," Nile mutters at the 45-minute mark. "Just so everyone knows who's in charge."

Joe half-chokes on the laugh that he sure-as-hell doesn't dare let out. Nile smirks. Nicky flicks a glare in their direction, but doesn't let up on getting Andy to sit still long enough to let him get the IV started. It'd be hysterical if it hadn't been so fucking serious. At least Copley had been smart and had gotten a pole with wheels so Andy can stalk all over the house even when Nicky's pumping fluids into her. 

Once that drama is finished, though, Joe finds himself restless and at loose ends. 

Andy drags him into a discussion about new identities and what they've got stashed for emergencies, which is at least enough to keep him from putting his fist through a wall or three. He can't phone it in with Andy, which is a nice distraction. Nile sits in and fires off one question after another, mostly to clarify things in her own head, but occasionally disagreeing with how they've been doing things. That's good, too, because it occurs to Joe that they've been relying on Booker to take care of the logistical team stuff for the last few decades, and even if he hadn't gone ahead and fucked them all over, it'd still be good to think about the why's and the how's a little more. 

He catches a glimpse of Booker as he passes along the gallery hallway on the upper floor, but that's all. Nicky had disappeared once the IV was set up; Joe isn't sure if it's for the solitude to settle his own temper or to let Andy annoy the rest of them for a while and accomplish it that way. _Or_ , Joe thinks, _both_. 

He really doesn't care much about Booker's absence, but he's just starting to wonder about Nicky when he shows up with the arming sword that had been stashed in the car slung in a carrier over his shoulder.

"Yes?" Nicky asks, holding out the car keys to Joe, asking without words if Joe wants to retrieve the saif that's also in the boot.

 _Yes_ , Joe wants to agree, but it's usually Andy who picks up her axe and lets Joe work out any issues. And he usually doesn't have memories as sharp and clear as life of Nicky strapped down and all but screaming in pain running on a loop in his brain.

"Nico," he says, shaking his head. "This isn't what--how-- This isn't you."

"No," Nicky says, always truthful no matter how hard that might be. Of all the things Joe loves about him, that trust might be at the top of the list. "But, what you said to me last night, and today… I'm saying it back to you."

Andy's watching them with that sharp, no-bullshit look, the one that Joe hasn't seen in he can't remember how long. It's good to see it--it's at least the start of the boss being back on the job and _liking_ it--but it also means Joe's gonna get an earful at some point. And Nile… Nile has that look again, which Joe is pretty sure means there's more he's going to be explaining.

"Mr. Copley's home includes a space once used for physical therapy," Nicky's continuing. Joe remembers that Copley's wife had been ill. It seems like an eternity ago that he'd sat with a directional mike and listened to Copley talk with Booker and Andy, but it's only been a little more than a week. "It's not a full dojo, but it should give us enough space to work with."

Joe turns back to Nicky, who's waiting with that stubbornness that means he can stay there all day if necessary, and… 

"No blood," Joe says to Nicky, conceding that he's not in any frame of mind to deal with that stubbornness. This way, he reasons, he can blow off some of the restless energy and get Nicky to stand down a little, all without having to bring up too many nightmares that Merrick's lab have left floating too close to the surface behind his eyes. It won't be the win he knows Nicky wants, but it'll do some good.

"No blood," Nicky agrees, but Joe can see a tiny bit of tension easing around his eyes, and knows Nicky was prepared to agree with anything Joe said, no matter how much he didn't like it. Joe and Andy have been known to cut each other to ribbons when they're both angry enough (well, Joe gets cut to ribbons; if he's lucky, he might land a hit or two on Andy, but blood does flow, either way.) 

Joe shakes his head at Nicky, just once, to let him know Joe knows--and both really doesn't like and very much loves how far Nicky will go to help him. Nicky shrugs minutely--Joe is sure not even Andy notices, accepting both. 

_Fine_ , Joe thinks. _Fine_. 

He doesn't even have to say anything; Nicky can read him so easily. Joe takes the keys and goes and retrieves the saif under the false bottom of the boot. When he gets back in the house, Nicky's waiting to lead him down to the open room that runs the length of the house on the lower level, and before Joe can even get a good look at how much space they're going to have, an elevator opens across the room and Nile and Andy are walking out (Nile pushing the IV pole along behind Andy.) 

"Seriously?" he sighs to Nicky, who smiles and shrugs. 

"It made Andy smile," Nicky says. "And I didn't think it would matter all that much."

Joe doesn't have anything much to argue with, so he gives up and wanders around after Nicky, looking at what they have to work with. They shift a couple of pieces of equipment aside to open up a little more space, but there's not all that much to move. They'll have some space--more than Joe would have expected, even for such a large house--but not so much that they'll be able to move without thinking. Andy and Nile perch themselves on the steps, which leaves Joe to face Nicky in the center of the mats and strip the carrier off his saif.

"Rock and roll," Andy calls, and Nicky dives in almost before she says the last word. 

Joe had been thinking that this wasn't really going to do anything about the anger he's carrying, but Nicky slaps the saif out of his hands with the flat of his sword and then whips around in a nasty backstroke that Joe barely manages to dodge. When he swings around and gets a good look at Nicky, all he's getting is a focused, serious intent, and there's nothing for Joe to do but answer in kind. 

Joe's usually faster than Nicky (but not Andy), but today, Nicky is a half-step in front of him right from the start. "You're distracted," Nicky tells him, barely out of breath while Joe is already gasping, his hand stinging from the vibrations of that first hit. "You should already have me on the ground."

"No blood," Joe pants, seeing a very clear path to where they both lose their heads and start going for real damage. "Swear."

"As we have already agreed," Nicky answers. "Pay attention, Yusuf."

It turns out that he means it's time he stops screwing around and just charges in like a bull, leaving it all up to Joe to keep them safe. Which Joe does, of course, blocking and parrying and ducking one vicious swing of Nicky's sword after another. Joe can't decide if he's more inspired by the trust Nicky has in him or just fucking furious at the stunt. 

Once he gets his head in the game, though, Joe _is_ faster than Nicky, quicker with his hands and feet, and more able to turn on a dime. He still has to watch out for both of them, so it takes longer than usual to beat Nicky back, but once Joe sees the tide starting to turn, he chases it relentlessly, until he's the one that's slapping Nicky's sword across the room.

 _Fuck, yeah,_ he hears Nile say, but dimly, as if from a very great distance. Nicky is still, unmoving, in front of Joe, his eyes clear and unrepentant until he smiles and drops down to the floor, gasping for breath. Joe follows like a puppet on a string.

What he should be, Joe finally admits to himself, flat on his back on the floor, gulping down air, is grateful at how well Nicky knows him. A no-blood spar wasn't really going to do much to get Joe out of his own head, but playing defense for both of them _and_ going on the offensive (because of course he wasn't only going to react and Nicky knew that, too) took every bit of mental focus he had and hadn't left anything for the poisonous fury to hang onto. 

"I get the impression there was a lot of subtext that wasn't staying buried there," Joe hears Nile saying to Andy. 

"Subtext never stays buried with those two," Andy answers, and then the elevator doors are closing and it's just Joe and Nicky. 

" _Dio_ ," Nicky groans, flexing and shaking out his sword arm.

"Madman," Joe answers. Nicky hums in disagreement. "I could have taken your head off, Nico."

"But you didn't," Nicky answers. He rolls onto his side and reaches out to touch Joe's face where he's turned it to follow the movement. "Neither of us has so much as a scratch."

Joe shakes his head, but when he closes his eyes, nothing comes swimming up from the time in Merrick's lab. There's only darkness and he thinks he might be able to sleep.

* - * - *

Nicky moves very carefully when he needs to go administer Andy's antibiotics during the night; Joe sleeps heavily--and well, Nicky hopes. His nights are very chopped up with the meds schedule, but it's still dark out when he comes awake to Joe pulling on shirt and trousers. He tenses, subconsciously expecting more disaster, but then relaxes when Joe leans down to pet his hand through Nicky's hair, murmuring, "Copley told me how to get to the closest mosque."

Nicky nods, mumbling, "Fajr, beloved?"

"I don't know if it will help," Joe whispers. "But I don't think it can hurt."

Nicky knows the bleakness in Joe's voice; it's mirrored in his own emotions. He turns so that he can catch Joe's hand gently in his own, and presses a kiss to the center of Joe's palm. 

"Be at peace, _caro_ ," Nicky says. Joe touches his face, a quick brush of his fingertips across Nicky's cheekbone, and then he's gone, moving quietly through the dark of the morning. 

Nicky sleeps a bit more, the weight on his heart lightened a little by Joe having reached the point where he can try to move through the anger and betrayal, waking only when it's time for Andy's next dose. 

"Again?" Nile asks, groggy and yawning as Nicky eases the door open and slips into the other bedroom.

"The antibiotic Merrick's doctor started her on has to be administered every three hours," Nicky says. Andy mutters something that sounds like _fucking bitch_ , but Nicky doesn't rise to the bait no matter how much he agrees, though not for the medical selection. In that, he concurs that the intravenous dose, administered often, is appropriate for someone who has little to no history of antibiotic therapy. Kozak is a bitch for many other reasons, though. "I did not think it wise to change in midstream."

"You're the doctor," Nile says. Andy makes another rude sound, but she lets Nicky brush her hair back off her face (and not so secretly check her for fever) without any interference, and she rolls onto her side and settles herself to sleep again once he's finished. Nicky is more than happy with that.

He debates whether to go back to the bed he's been sharing with Joe--he is still weary from the amount of energy it's taken to heal from the constant experimentation and the headshot he'd taken--but when Nile rolls quietly out of her bed, he decides he can start the day and nap later, if necessary. 

It's a good choice: as they walk into the kitchen, they find Joe sorting through food Copley has had delivered, and—almost better—there is coffee ready to be poured.

"Fuck," Nile says after her first taste. She blinks down at the cup Joe's handed her, and then smiles up at him. "I'm kinda amazed that didn't eat straight through the spoon."

"You kids and your Starbucks," Joe says, his voice warm and teasing. "There's so much other stuff in your coffee that you forget the actual coffee."

"That's 'cause you have all the actual coffee in this hemisphere ground up in that pot you just made," Nile fires back.

Joe laughs, but busies himself with the food; Nicky can see that he has calmed somewhat, but recognizes that he has yet to reach a place where he can be still with his thoughts. Of course, Nicky has not yet come to any peace with his own, so he does not begrudge Joe the focused attention he's paying to making breakfast.

Plus, this way Nicky is treated to not only Joe's strong, rich coffee, but also his beautiful, aromatic--and very highly spiced--shakshuka. 

Nile practically whimpers at the first bite. "Oh, god, I have been away from good food for way too long." She takes another bite, and then mumbles through it, "'Scuse me while I stuff my face."

Joe smiles at her, a real, true smile, and Nicky's breath catches at the beauty of it, just a little, even after so many years. 

The rest of the day unspools slowly. Joe attempts to feed Andy a less incendiary version of breakfast, but gets a tirade about being, as she puts it, a 'condescending dumbshit', after which he serves up the full experience. 

Andy practically purrs as she scrapes her plate clean, and Nicky is not sure which is better: knowing that she is recovering, or watching the joy in Joe's eyes as she kisses him on the cheek on her way back upstairs to shower.

He and Joe spend several hours with Andy and Nile, finalizing plans for their next moves, sorting through identities and properties, a continuation of the discussion begun the previous day, but one that's reaching a conclusion. Nile drifts off after an hour or so, and Andy brings Copley in to talk in more detail about how they can handle her death and resurrection, especially since the U.S. military is involved.

Nicky watches Copley closely, still unsure about trusting him, but he answers every question Andy and Joe ask with an earnest care, even when in response to the inquiries Nicky knows are there to bait him into betraying any duplicity he might still be harboring. The sanctuary he's provided them is a (small) down payment on the debacle he'd brought into existence, but each honest answer adds a small bit more to it.

Joe excuses himself for Dhuhr; and then, when they're still talking at Asr, Nicky breaks things up to do a thorough check on Andy and administer her next dose of antibiotics.

"You are healing," Nicky tells her as he changes her bandages. "No signs of infection."

"No rest for the wicked," Andy says. It's nothing more than the dark humor that has become her norm, but it catches Nicky wrong on this day, and he presses his mouth closed before he says something he will regret. The room stays silent as he cleans his hands and packs away the extra bandages and tape. 

When he turns to go, though, Andy reaches out and circles his arm with one hand. "Hey," she says, drawing him into her. "Nico." She sighs. "Don't--" She looks at him, meeting his eyes with a sure, sad knowledge. "I'm sorry."

Nicky lets her bring him closer, until she can rest her forehead on his and they can breathe together for a long few seconds. Then, she kisses him on both cheeks and says lightly, "I take back all the shit I've given you about your many, _many_ medical degrees." 

"All of it, really?" Nicky manages to quip back. She is not pretending that all is well, and if that means she's asking him to go along with how she is dealing with everything, then it's the least that he can do. "That is… very much, especially for someone who prides herself on not feeling the need to apologize."

"Bitch." Andy is still smiling at him and Nicky can't help smiling back. "Okay, fine, maybe just for the last go-round."

"Yes, that seems much more likely," he says, and she laughs and tells him to get out of her room.

"Joe should be done by now; go find him and see what he needs help with." Her smile turns sly and Nicky can only shake his head at her. 

"If you are insinuating that I would neglect a patient only for romance," he starts, but he's unable to keep a serious expression when she rolls her eyes, mouthing _romance_ as she makes an extremely pornographic gesture. "Perhaps for that," he admits, and leaves the room with as much dignity as possible.

Joe will probably be finished with Asr, as Andy had suggested, but Nicky isn't sure now is the best time to go to him. He's relieved that Joe is beginning to find some peace, but it's perhaps time Nicky examines his own actions and behaviors. 

He finds himself climbing the steps to the office on the top floor of the house, and without the heaviness he's carried with him the previous time. He takes that as a sign that he does indeed need to see the conversation he can barely think about through to a conclusion. Nile is in the room with Booker, by which Nicky is not surprised at all. Nile has shown herself to be very calm and level-headed and has not seemed to have lost her sense of compassion during the upheaval of finding herself immortal. Indeed, they seem to be working on Nile's French, which serves to not only fill the time constructively, but, Nicky suspects, also allows Nile an easy strategy to keep the lines of communication open to Booker. 

"I'm going to clear out," Nile says. "See if Joe needs any help with dinner."

She speaks as though she has no qualms about leaving the two of them together, which Nicky appreciates. In French, Booker tells her to have a good evening and then waits expectantly for her reply; she rolls her eyes and answers slowly, but still passably in the same language, and then it's Nicky and Booker alone in the office.

"She's a good kid," Booker says before the silence grows too oppressive. 

"She is." Nicky nods, and then the weight of the previous few days slams back down over them.

"Look," Booker finally sighs. "Whatever it is you came here to say, just say it."

Nicky nods again, and then says, slowly, "I came to apologize."

Until the words have been spoken, Nicky has not been certain he could say them, no matter how much he knew they were the right thing to say. The relief of having it done is more lightening than Nicky had dared to hope.

"That--ahh--is not what I was expecting," Booker says after a long moment of blankness.

"Understand, Sebastien," Nicky continues quietly, "that I am still incredibly angry with you." He breathes in once, and then lets the air trickle out of his lungs. The coldness of his fury is still buried deep, but now that he has begun this, he will not stop."Angry and betrayed--and disappointed." Booker is watching him with eyes that are dark and wary. "But to say that you were not a part of the reason I cared for Andy was wrong. You are--" Another deep inhale and slow exhale, and the words come more easily than he'd dared to hope. "You are still a part of this family, and I am glad I have been able to manage the medical complexities. For all of us."

Booker nods, and Nicky thinks the conversation is over, but then he says, "I haven't--been to see her."

"You should," Nicky says. 

"Yeah, I'm, uh, trying to work up the nerve in case she doesn't want me near her."

Nicky shrugs. "It's possible," he says. "But I think she is more--" He searches for the right word. "More compassionate than that."

"Andromache of Scythia?" Booker asks. "Compassionate?"

"Yes," Nicky says simply. He thinks that Booker not understanding this, of all things, is possibly at the root of their current situation, but he cannot fix that, only show the way to a path that Booker might take. "You are part of her."

Booker doesn't answer, but when Nicky leaves, he follows, and the last Nicky sees of him, he is knocking on Andy's door.

* - * - *

Copley tells Joe they can call out for dinner, but Joe knows it's better if he has something to keep himself busy, so he declines as politely as he can and turns to survey the rest of the grocery delivery. Copley had ordered enough food to feed a small army; Joe has his pick of options.

"The meat," Copley says as he watches Joe sort through everything. "It's halal. I ordered from a local shop." Joe looks at him in something that's not quite surprise. "I don't know if you--" Copley shrugs helplessly. "My wife, her family was--is Muslim."

Joe nods slowly. It explains how he'd known where to send Joe for Fajr earlier, without any explanations on Joe's part. And it was a kindness to order halal--to even think to order it. "I do when I can," Joe says. "It's--a connection."

Joe doesn't say it out loud, but it's probably not a bad time to be paying attention to the stuff that keeps him on an even keel. Everyone's holding it together so far, because it's what they do, but everything's been thrown ass over teakettle in the last week. Doing what he can to take care of himself so he can take care of everyone else is something he needs to be paying attention to.

Nile arrives with the news that Nicky's up talking to Booker, right as Joe's discovered the saffron and decided to braise the chicken in tomatoes and spices, roast some vegetables, and steam couscous to go under it all. He debates going up to referee whatever's playing out on the top floor, but finally decides to let them sort it out themselves. It's not like he's the voice of reason these days. Instead, he puts Nile to work chopping the vegetables and sets himself to toasting and grinding spices.

"Do you have any kind of recipe?" Nile asks after watching him opening random jars and tins and measuring the spices in the palm of his hand before adding them to the pan. He's probably also been muttering to himself, but that's not all that unusual when he's in a kitchen. 

"Where's the fun in that?" Joe asks as he smells the spices he's ground together and tries to figure out what's missing. 

"If you say so," Nile answers, doubtfully enough that Joe looks up at her and shoots her a grin. "I mean, I guess we'll find out when you're through." 

"Chop," Joe tells her, mock-sternly.

"Yes, chef!" Nile salutes him with a cheeky smile; he's very glad to see her sense of humor coming out more and more as she adjusts to this new reality.

Copley finds it all very amusing, though he's good at keeping up a bland front like the good little CIA agent he is. Joe ignores the two of them and adds some more anise, coriander, _and_ fennel to his mix, just for good measure, and then takes a handful and rubs it all over the chicken, getting a good bit under the skin, too. 

The spices stain his skin, dark and rusty; and he has a moment when he goes to wipe his hands where he's seeing blood, old and caked into his skin, under his nails. He makes himself breathe steadily through it, washing his hands with far too much focus to pass off as normal, but Nicky and Andy are still upstairs, and neither Nile nor Copley know him well enough to notice. 

He has barely enough time to sear off the chicken and start it braising in the tomatoes he's found before it's coming up on time for Maghreb. He washes his hands again, scrubbing fiercely this time, doing his best to make himself presentable. The skin of his fingers and over his palms is red and raw before he's through, but he doesn't see blood when he looks at it, which is at least better than before. 

He checks the time once more and stands in the middle of the kitchen trying to decide what to do. He doesn't want to rush Maghreb--the other times he's settled himself enough to pray have actually done more good than he'd hoped--but the timing is going to be late for the rest of the food. He doesn't actually think anyone's going to care, but it boils down to yet another thing that he hasn't been on top of since they shot their way out of Merrick's labs. 

"Hey. Joe," Nile says, and when Joe looks up, she's watching him with that thoughtful look in her eyes again. Perhaps his fixation on getting his hands clean hadn't gone quite as unnoticed as he'd though. "Go. Take your time. I got this." 

Joe hesitates, the words to turn down the offer almost automatically on his tongue, but she's not turning away, and her expression says that she understands that Joe is substituting the food for everything he couldn't keep from happening before. She doesn't say anything like that, but her face adds the depth to her practical words. "I mean, I know the general timing of when everything needs to go in the oven and all. It won't be the first time I've gotten dinner finished off."

Her eyes are steady and calm--and maybe show a shade of vulnerability. Joe manages to recognize the true offer being made, one that is asking to be allowed into the group even as it's offering Joe help that he's only just worked out that he needs.

"You are a lovely, caring woman," Joe says, suddenly struck by how lucky they are to have found her, and not only for how she came to get them all. "Thank you."

Nile ducks her head shyly, and shrugs as though she can't agree but is too polite to argue. "It's nothin' big," she says. "Nothing but poking the chicken and putting the other stuff in the oven. I was doing that kinda stuff when I was barely 10 years old."

It's more that she assessed the situation and made an offer of help, but Joe isn't quite at a point where he can say that with any sort of calm rationality, and he thinks it will probably be better if he knows her for more than a week before he dumps an emotional speech on her. Instead, he gives her a rough timeline of what needs to happen when and makes his way out to the very nicely landscaped garden behind Copley's house right in time for the alarm on his phone to sound.

* - * - *

"Hey," Nile says as Nicky wanders into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of chicken and spices simmering together. Automatically, Nicky's eyes sweep the room for Joe, but there's only Nile, who has not only just stirred a sheet of vegetables that are roasting in the oven, but is also now poking at the wide flat pan of chicken on the stove.

" _Buona sera_ ," Nicky answers, too formally, he knows, but not only is he physically tired, but also emotionally drained and really, very much wanting Joe. "I'm sorry, I thought Joe was --" He gestures around the kitchen, to the chicken simmering on the stove and the vegetables roasting in the oven.

"Oh, yeah, he was, but then he needed to pray, so I got drafted to keep an eye on things." Nile turns to fill a measuring cup with water.

Nicky stops at that, and stares. "Joe," he says slowly, " _left_ you in charge of dinner?"

"I mean, I offered…?" Nile says. "I knew it was close to Maghreb and I could see where he wasn’t happy about what that did to the timing of everything...?" She cocks her head at Nicky. "Why?"

"Joe has many admirable qualities," Nicky tells her. "I have loved him for centuries, but the man is a tyrant in the kitchen. I don't remember the last time he allowed anyone to do anything like this."

Nicky may have, as he's told Nile, been in love with Joe for hundreds of years, but that doesn't mean he can't acknowledge his beloved's control issues, or the level of focus he can bring to bear when he doesn't want to address what is actually causing him distress.

"I could tell he was only barely keeping his mouth shut--he _definitely_ wanted to walk me through everything like I was five," Nile says, "but yeah, he told me I was sweet and he went out in the back yard, so."

"Thank you," Nicky says. "For noticing and offering. It was very thoughtful of you." He finds a pitcher of the mint tea Joe likes in the refrigerator and pours each of them a glass. "Also," he says, leaning close and playing up a conspiratorial air for no reason other than he is tired of the recent dramas (and the ones that he knows are still to come) and Nile seems to have a lovely sense of humor, "I am in your debt because without you, it would have been another hour before there would be food and I am grateful not to have to wait."

Nile proves his assessment correct with a wink and a very dry, "Why'd you think I offered?"

Her smile is wide and happy and Nicky can't help but return it, so that they are grinning at each other like lunatics when Joe comes in from his prayers. Joe, because he truly is the tyrant that Nicky named him, checks the chicken and the roasting vegetables, but then comes and allows Nicky to settle in his arms.

"Thank you," Joe says over the top of Nicky's head to Nile. "Also, you'll have to excuse us. We're not usually this--"

"Needy," Nicky supplies. Joe shrugs.

"I was gonna say 'handsy', but, yeah, needy works, too." Joe has one hand under Nicky's shirt, his thumb drawing small circles on the skin over Nicky's hip. With every passing second, Nicky feels more centered, more able to look to the future and manage what it might bring.

"Nah, you're fine," Nile says. "It's been a hell of a week."

It has, and Nicky does not see how the next few days will be much better (except that he will not have to witness people stabbing or cutting or shooting his beloved.) They still have to decide how to proceed with Booker and Copley; and Andy, though on a healing track now, will have to make the adjustment to mortality and he cannot think that will be without its own perils. But Joe is here and Nicky can feel how his agitation has begun to calm. 

There's still more raging under the surface, Nicky can feel that, too--and knows that it is very much the same with his own fury--but he will be there for Joe and Joe will be there for him, as it has been for too many years to count. And better--Andy is with them again, and now there is Nile, who is cheerfully ignoring Joe's mutterings about how best to steam the couscous and taking care of things in her own way. Booker's betrayal has cut deeply, but they are here together and will find a way through it all.

**Author's Note:**

> I live and die professionally by the AP Style Guide; if they screwed up formatting/style for Muslim prayer times, please let me know & I'll fix here (& possibly file an exception review request to their guidelines.)
> 
> Title from _Lovers In a Dangerous Time_ , which has been covered by I don't even know how many artists, but which I know from Bruce Cockburn, because I am old.
> 
> If you want to come say hi, I'm [](http://topaz119.tumblr.com)[**topaz119**](http://topaz119.tumblr.com)(tumblr) and [](http://topaz119.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://topaz119.dreamwidth.org/)**topaz119** (dreamwidth)
> 
> If you like, feel free to [reblog](https://topaz119.tumblr.com/post/632971105198620672/fic-kick-at-the-darkness-til-it-bleeds-daylight) on tumblr. ty


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